


Sweet Repose

by elecktera



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Dark Will Graham, First Kiss, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Post-Fall (Hannibal), This is my first Hannibal fic hi im really late, Will Graham Has Nightmares, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, also serotonin, validation I require it, writing this did not help with either of those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elecktera/pseuds/elecktera
Summary: If killing The Dragon was their becoming…This was their reign.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Sweet Repose

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii <33  
> So! This is my first post in this fandom and therefore...  
> I'm considering this a character study so I can better understand how to write these two idiots :) (it's not just an excuse for mediocracy I swear)  
> Hoping to eventually write a series with them!! If you see more character studies from me... no u didn't

Heat licked unrelenting at Will’s insides. _Numb_ oozed and filled the cracks where the heat could not reach. It was freezing, and yet sweat clung like a sheet to his skin; thick and unrelenting, and it was- 

It was too _much_. He felt it in his throat, where bile threatened to surface. In his hands where they shook, overwhelmed with sensation. Where blood, now blackened, stained his jagged forearms. 

His ears rang, his eyes wide, frightened, and searching for purchase. It felt like he was drowning - he couldn’t breathe. His lungs filled so rapidly, his heart fluttered against his ribcage; the scar that branded his cheek _burned_ as he scratched desperately at it. He was…

He was dying, wasn’t he? 

He wanted to cry and kick and scream and- 

“Will?” _Oh_. Oh. 

He was alive… And so was Hannibal. 

“Where did you wander, my _avinėlis?”_ A cold palm pressed against his forehead and Will shivered under the attention. Sweat gathered uncomfortably in his nape and between the notches of his spine. 

He hummed noncommittally, “Virginia,” stated matter-as-factly, accentuated by a joyless smile. 

Hannibal’s hand traveled from his cheek to his neck, to his shoulder, and then it was gone altogether; and Will _mourned_ the loss - suffocated under the weight. 

Their eyes met; blood on the water. 

When did Will start searching - no - yearning for them? 

When did abhorrence become such an untamable hunger? 

...Or maybe it was always that way. Maybe all it took was their shared, bloody baptism for Will to truly _see_. 

“Will?” Hannibal’s voice like a symphony and a prayer, sweet and thick; it coated Will’s tongue pleasantly in rivulets of crimson and gold. 

_“But do you... ache for him?”_

Yes. Yes. Yes. It was searing; flaring, molten hot, and _angry_. 

“Hannibal,” He sounded weak with it. 

Hannibal answered with the return of his hand, reverently lain over Will’s scarred cheek, a musician’s thumb traced delicately over his cheekbone. 

Suddenly the ringing went silent. He felt small under Hannibal’s ministrations, but not helpless, not weak… Seen, maybe. 

Time ceased to exist in the pocket that they had found themselves in. Everything around them moved on a clock that was only Will and Hannibal. 

Will blinked slowly, “How would you kill me?” his hand reaching up to cover Hannibals. 

Hannibal’s eyes glazed over, like blood oozing from a small cut. He sighed, warm, “My lovely, fearsome boy. My _mažas avinėlis,_ I would _worship_ you.”

It felt like falling down the cliffside all over again; like the stinging crash against the waves, painful but all-encompassing. Like Hannibal pulling him limp, and nearly lifeless from the arms of the ocean, breathing life back into him as he had all those years ago. Life was fleeting before he met Hannibal; hues only passing in umbers and rich blacks. Now- **Now** life was vibrant and _warm_ and he was… Enamored with the feeling of it.

Will whimpered, “I- love you.” 

Hannibal choked on a breath, “I never could predict you, Will, and I suspect I never will be able,” He leaned forward until their foreheads met. Will’s eyes fluttering before clenching tightly, overwhelmed with vehemence.

“I would like to kiss you. May I kiss you, Will?” And Will was helpless to do anything but nod. 

Their lips met, and with it, the dam broke. The reservations, the tiptoeing, the hesitations, crumbling at their feet. Hannibal’s lips were soft, and he kissed like it was their last. 

It was desperate, fervent, reflected in the way they _writhed_ against each other. Will gasped against Hannibal’s lips, his chest burning. He didn’t want to stop. Not now, not ever. Now that he had this… How could he? 

This was easy- god it was easy. To slip, to fall, to trust Hannibal so blindly after so much doubt. To give, and give, and _give._ He knew: everything that made himself belonged to Hannibal. 

Hannibal tasted like cherry wine, sweet and pliant under his lips. He teased, nipped, and pulled at Will’s bottom lip with sharp canines. 

It felt like fire under Will’s skin. His soul had finally been returned to the water, every part of him that was once dead had the breath of life once more. Their lips found each other’s hurt and licked it away in tender sweeps. 

They broke apart, albeit reluctant, and Will’s eyes searched for the ichor of Hannibals. 

Will thought he looked beautiful like this. Silver hair mussed from Will’s curious fingers, cheeks flushed with wine and contentment; nearly revered, his eyes shut as if he were at worship. 

Hannibal finally met his stare, cloudy with the placating adrenaline-filled ache Will felt in his joints before it rained. The expectancy. The fondness. The familiarity. 

He wanted to kiss Hannibal until his lips were bruised and aching, his breath shallow, nearly there. 

If killing The Dragon was their becoming… 

This was their _reign_. 

Natural selection had drawn their fate. Sealed it with a kiss and a smear of blood. The beasts found repose in each other’s arms. 

Hannibal hummed pleasantly, “I want to give you the world, Will. May I give you the world, darling boy?” A distant echo. 

And Will sank.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3  
> Kudos and suggestions are appreciated!!  
> Translations:   
> avinėlis = lamb  
> mažas avinėlis = little lamb


End file.
